[Verse 1]
In Britain’s Georgian times, there were so many crimes
No time to hang each crook guilty of a felony
'Cause there’s no room to jail ya, they’d send you to Australia
To live in our new-fangled penal colony
Think that sounds like heaven?
In 1787, it wasn’t that kind of once-in-a-lifetime trip
First Fleet took the journey, months at sea, so churny
Over fourty died while they were on the ship

[Chorus]
Those that lived were plucky
Plucky, plucky, plucky
Crammed on board with rats and vermin, cockroaches in bed
Stench inside was sicky
Yucky, yucky, icky
Lice not very nice, can’t get them out of my head

[Verse 2]
Landed Bay of Botany
Convicts' life was rotten-y
Needed food and shelter but everything failed
Trees too strong for felling
Stagnant water smelling
A real step back in time in New South Wales
Soil too poor for budding
Huts washed up by flooding
Plans for building houses came to sticky ends
The best of all their labours, attacked by local neighbours
And that is when your neighbours don’t become good friends

[Chorus]
Situation tricky
Tricky, tricky, tricky
Then a second fleet of ships was due aground
Some thought this was lucky
But, illness had struck-y
Half were dead or Ill
Fever was spinning around

[Verse 3]
After seven years, convict record clears
Just one catch; you got to pay your own way back
No wages meant no money
No choice, but what’s funny
Many stayed, became farmers and made a stack
Original arrivers proved hardy survivors
Sydney turned into a place you’d choose to go
Think that they’d be fairer to convicts who were sent there?
No way, they built prisons even more remote

[Bridge]
Port Arthur was one of the jails
Where every escape attempt fails
Was one man who nearly got through
Billy Hunt; dressed as a kangaroo

[Chorus]
Inmate’s life still sucky
Sucky, sucky, sucky
Life behind bars was not very nice
Hideous and messy
Who would ever guess-y
This hellhole would become a
Holiday paradise?